The Virgin's Secret Marriage

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  But Emma had been on the losing side, when it came to her love affair with Joe once too often. “And if you can’t handle her?” she asked anxiously. “Then what?”

  Joe’s eyes darkened ominously. “Trust me not to be afraid to do what it takes for us to be together,” he said gruffly.

  Still caging her with his arms, he lowered his head to hers, waiting patiently until she turned her lips to his. The first touch was so electric Emma moaned and wreathed both her arms around his neck. He stepped in even closer, so his body was pressed to her front, the same way the cabinets were pressed to her back. She was trapped against him, and she reveled in the feeling of hard, indomitable male muscle even as she went up on tiptoe to better return his kiss.

  Joe had been thinking about kissing Emma all night. The entire time he had been sitting in the Donovans’ living room, enduring the combination cross-examination-lecture from her parents and giving the appropriate responses he had been chomping at the bit, waiting for the moment he could have Emma alone again and make her his. Because the truth was, he had felt—and still felt—even after the first time they’d made love, that she still had one foot, if not half her body, out the door.

  It was only times like now, when he was kissing her and she was kissing him back, that he felt like the barriers they’d both erected around their hearts even started to fall away.

  Which was why, Joe thought, as he tangled his hands in the silky waves of her hair and tilted her head up to his for better access to the sweet, honeyed heat of her mouth, that he could stand here in the kitchen and do this all night.

  Even if Emma was starting to get a little impatient.

  He smiled against her mouth as she lifted her hips and pressed them against the hardness of his crotch.

  “Let’s go to bed,” she whispered against his mouth.

  Joe knew if they hit the mattress, and Emma opened herself up to him, it would be over all too soon. Not good, when he planned to make love to her in a way that took, oh…an hour. Maybe more. Before starting all over again. He grinned and touched his tongue to the corners of her lips. “Let’s not.”

  She whimpered, soft and low in her throat, as her hands curved around his shoulders. “Joe—”

  Reluctantly, he lifted his head and looked down at her, meeting her eyes. Her hair was mussed and it was his fault. And the same was true for her damp, kiss-swollen lips, flushed cheeks and sparkling emerald-green eyes. She looked so damn radiant and ready for loving he could hardly believe she was his. Which was why, Joe figured, he needed to take his time with her tonight. Make it last. Make it real. Make it so all-fired red hot she would never ever do anything foolish to split them up again. He kissed the back of her hand, the inside of her wrist. “The kitchen is just fine.”

  And to prove it, Joe lowered his head and kissed her once again. At first slowly, almost lazily, then hotter, harder, deeper. Until she was opening her mouth to the pressure of his, tangling her tongue with his, using the sweet suction of her lips and the roaming ministrations of her hands to drive him wild, too.

  Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed hold of the fabric of her skirt and shifted it up, above her hips. She wasn’t wearing stockings tonight—so the only thing between him and the most intimate part of her was a tiny triangle of peach silk, the same color as her skirt and top.

  He brought it down past her knees and knelt before her, to help her step out of her panties. Hands braced on the counter behind her, she stood, watching as he used the light, sure pressure of his stroking hands to convince her to part her legs for him even more.

  She was so beautiful. Soft and feminine. Desire flowed through him as he pushed through the nest of chestnut-curls. Her breath caught, just as he hoped it would, as he found her with the pad of his thumb and eased it back and forth over the slick, sensitive spot. She closed her eyes, let her head fall back, her breath soft and ragged. Reveling at her responsiveness, he moved his thumb back, up, inside. Needing to taste as well as touch her softness, he brought his lips up to her and continued the intimate kiss, stroking, teasing. His fingers were wet with her essence. Heat flowed into the dampening folds of flesh and she began to blossom, quivering all the while. She arched up on her toes, moaning softly, and then climaxed with such mind-blowing intensity it was all Joe could do not to lose control, too.

  A satisfaction that was even better than throwing the puck into the net flowing through him, Joe held her until the shudders stopped.

  Trembling with the effort to hold back his own response, he rose and clasped her against him. Her skirt was still pooled around her waist. She clung to him, seeming to have all the strength of a rag doll. “You didn’t…”

  “I will,” Joe promised, loving the way she looked, so beautiful, so ravished… “I will.”

  But not yet. First he had to explore the rest of her.

  He brought her against him and kissed her again, hard. She responded hungrily, wrapping her arms around him, crushing her breasts to his chest. Joe plundered her mouth with his tongue, even as he accepted the thrust and parry of hers. She was rocking against him, leaving him absolutely no doubt about what she wanted, and the best thing about it was it was what he wanted, too.

  Easing his hands beneath the hem of her sleeveless blouse, he caressed his way up past her waist, over her ribs, to her breasts. Her nipples, already hard, sprang to life in his hands. Needing to see, as well as feel, he pushed her top up, above her breasts. They were lush and full, wrapped in the same kind of sexy-thin peach silk as her panties.

  He unfastened the front clasp—the fabric fell free.

  All day, Joe had been thinking he had imagined the satiny perfection of her gold-tinged skin, the perfect shape of her breasts and the pouting perfection of her apricot nipples.

  The truth was, his memory hadn’t done her justice. Not a bit. She was not only as beautiful as he recalled, she was better. And even more enticing, she didn’t seem to mind him taking the time to look his fill. She even seemed to shyly encourage it.

  He smiled back at her and watched her green eyes darken passionately. Hunger flowing through him in mesmerizing waves, he kissed her again, hotly, thoroughly, his hands caressing her breasts all the while. Body hardening, he rubbed the tender crests until she moaned, then kissed and suckled them until she trembled and moaned.

  “Joe—” Her hands were on his fly.

  “I know.” Savoring the sweetness of her ardor, he let her unfasten, unzip. And then her hands were inside his briefs, caressing his hardness, even as their lips continued the wild mating dance.

  Joe stood it as long as he could, but when she pushed his pants down, to mid thigh, and his arousal sprang free, he knew it was time to get down to business. Past time.

  He lifted her onto the counter and brought her over to the edge. Parting her thighs, he stepped into the vee. Emma wrapped her arms and legs around him, not caring they were both still half dressed. Only caring, it seemed, that they finally connect.

  “Now,” Emma murmured, pleased when Joe agreed.

  He slid inside her, watching her face as he entered her, knowing this night, his marriage, was everything he had ever imagined it could be.

  And Emma, heaven help her, couldn’t seem to look away, either.

  For so long, for so many years, she had dreamed of just this. The erotic reality of being one with Joe was nearly more than she could bear. She clasped the smooth, warm muscles of his back and dug her fingers in.

  “Tell me you want me,” he murmured passionately.

  Wanting didn’t even begin to cover it. She wet her lips as he penetrated her a little more. “I want you.”

  He rubbed his thumb across her lips, kissed her slowly, thoroughly. “Tell me you’ll always want me,” he urged hoarsely, guiding her even closer.

  “Always,” Emma promised, her breasts swelling and pushing against the hair-roughened hardness of his pectorals.

  “Good.” His voice was rough, filled with the longing for more as he continued to wa
tch her in that reverent, unsettling way. “Because that’s the way I feel, too.”

  He kissed her again, with the same abiding passion she felt. Then he began to thrust inside her, slowly at first, almost leisurely. Then more and more provocatively, until there wasn’t an ounce of restraint left between them.

  Inundated with sensation as hot and all-enveloping as the Carolina summer, Emma closed her eyes. She had never imagined being with Joe could feel this way. So perfect, so good. Sensation built upon sensations and excitement roared through her. Cupping his hands over her bare bottom, he lifted her a little higher. She tightened around him, pulling him deeper still, until Emma no longer knew just who was possessing whom. She only knew that nothing and no one had ever felt so right. And that she wanted him all the way, with no holds barred this time, no secrets or fears between them. And Joe seemed to want her in exactly the same way. In and up, he moved, the easy friction of their bodies doubling their pleasure, their heat. Emma trembled and whimpered low in the back of her throat as he filled her to overflowing. Then filled her some more, until he was embedded inside her as far as he could be. Until they both soared over the edge, from passion into ecstasy.

  “WELL, THAT WAS A SURPRISE,” Emma murmured affectionately at last.

  Joe knew it had been. He also knew it hadn’t just been about laying claim to the heart of the woman who was now his wife. Or bringing about some much-needed physical gratification for the two of them.

  It had also been about venting some of the frustration he’d been feeling.

  Joe didn’t like not being in control of a situation. Didn’t like to be told what to do or what not to do. And he really hated feeling that events beyond their control—or other people—were beginning to come between them once again.

  He’d wanted to be in charge of his relationship with Emma. And his marriage. He had wanted to prove to himself that when push came to shove, when it came right down to it, there were only two people in this arena that really mattered—Emma and himself.

  Joe grinned as he felt the aftershocks still coursing through the body cuddled up to him. If he’d harbored any doubts about any of their relationship before making love with Emma, he had none now.

  She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. And as long as they were together, as long as they both felt like this, they didn’t have a damn thing to worry about. Except, Joe amended humorously, maybe finding a more comfortable place to recover from their sexual Olympics.

  Chuckling at the fact she was still limp and pliable against him, her legs still wrapped around his waist a good five minutes after they had reached completion, he lifted her off the counter, carried her upstairs to his bedroom, past his reading chair in the corner, and tumbled her down onto the bed.

  “Now that we’ve completed the warm-up,” he grinned, loving the mounting excitement and pleasure in her eyes, “let’s get down to some serious love play.”

  Emma looked as if she weren’t sure he was joking or not. She tugged her skirt down. Joe took it off.

  “But w-we just—” Emma stammered.

  “Give me ten minutes,” Joe urged as he divested her of her blouse and bra, too, before shucking his own tie, shirt and socks. Naked, he joined her on the bed. “I’ll be ready to go again.”

  It took five. Maybe.

  AFTER THEY HAD MADE LOVE the second time, Joe fell asleep almost immediately. But Emma was so wired from the excitement of finding the passion she had always dreamed she could have with Joe—at a time when she had long given up hope of ever even seeing him again, never mind being his wife—that she couldn’t begin to relax, never mind drift off into slumber so easily.

  Plus, Emma admitted reluctantly to herself, she was still upset about the theft that occurred the evening before.

  She didn’t care about her jewelry. Insurance would replace that.

  She did care about the memorabilia Joe had received from his father.

  She knew how much it meant to him, how heartfelt the loss.

  And she felt guilty for not going to the sheriff’s office with what she suspected about Benjamin Posen’s part in the burglary.

  The sooner we figure out who did this, the better our chance of recovering your stuff, Mac had told Joe.

  Emma didn’t want to wrongfully accuse Benjamin Posen and hence ruin his wedding weekend. But she didn’t think she could look the other way to suspected wrongdoing, withhold what could prove to be vital information needed to crack the burglary ring that had been playing havoc in Holly Springs for six months now, either. Never mind ignore the chance to potentially find Joe’s cherished mementos. Her efforts to investigate on her own hadn’t turned up much. No, she needed professional help. She needed to go to someone she could trust.

  And who better than Joe’s eldest brother?

  Surely Mac Hart would be able to keep this under his hat, so to speak, investigate without disrupting the wedding slated to take place at his mother’s place of business this weekend.

  Her mind made up, Emma slipped out of bed and went out into the family room. It was nearly midnight. Was it too late to call Mac, who, after working all day, was probably at home?

  Under the circumstances, with time of the essence, Emma decided not.

  Wary of waking Joe, she went into the laundry room and shut the door behind her. To her relief, the Holly Springs sheriff answered on the second ring. “Mac Hart.”

  “It’s Emma, Mac. And I need your help.”

  JOE WOKE AND REACHED FOR EMMA. Only Emma wasn’t there. The sheets were turned back, the bed beside him empty. He glanced at the clock. Ten minutes after twelve.

  Wondering why she wasn’t sleeping, too, he got up and went in search of her. The lights were still on in the kitchen and family room. But then, Joe recalled, as he looked around and did not see Emma, they had left them on. He glanced around. No sign of Emma. But he heard the muted sound of her voice, coming from…the laundry room?

  What was she doing in there?

  And who was she talking to secretly this time of night? he wondered.

  As he trod closer, he heard her say, “Thanks so much for handling this for me. You know why I couldn’t tell Joe.” She paused. “I’d prefer he didn’t know. Not unless, well, we have to tell him. All right. Thanks, Mac.”

  Mac?

  His brother? Joe thought jealously. “Good night.”

  Joe heard a beep as Emma cut the connection on the phone. Then the door opened. She started and uttered a cry of alarm when she saw him standing there, waiting. Their eyes met. She jerked in another breath, even unsteadier than the last. And looked guilty as sin.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Surprised to see me?” Joe asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Y-y-yes,” Emma said, blushing fiercely.

  Guilty as charged, he decided. Now all he had to do was discover the crime. “And why might that be?” he murmured softly, deliberately closing the distance between them.

  The air between them crackled with energy as a long second passed, then another, and she regarded him with an innocence he didn’t for one red-hot second believe.

  She tried to brazen it out, anyway, even as her cheeks flushed a telltale pink. Her glance drifted down his torso, before returning ever so self-consciously to his face. “You’re not wearing any clothes,” she said, frowning as if greatly perplexed.

  Clothes were the least of their problems, in Joe’s estimation. “Why were you talking to my brother?” he demanded, not about to let her change the subject on him. “And what is it you don’t want me to know?”

  Emma glanced back down at his private parts. “Can’t you put on some clothes?”

  “No,” Joe said. He stood facing her, legs braced apart, arms folded across his chest. “Now, answer the question.”

  She continued to dwell on his nakedness. Not that she was all that clothed herself. She had on a claret-red kimono that exposed a hell of a lot of very good-looking thigh. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

/>   “I’m fine, Emma,” Joe said, trying hard not to think about what she had or did not have on beneath that flimsy piece of silk. “And I’m waiting.”

  Apparently realizing she wasn’t going anywhere until she had told him what he wanted to know, Emma looked into his eyes again and said finally, “I had an idea about who might have stolen your stuff. Or orchestrated the theft, anyway.”

  “And didn’t tell me?” Joe groused, aware this would have been good news had he not had to drag it out of her, and then only after catching her confiding in someone else. Who, by the way, was not her husband!

  Emma shrugged. “I didn’t want to accuse anyone unfairly.”

  Joe studied her face, relaxing as he realized she was telling him the truth. “Is that why you took Posen’s car this afternoon?” he asked gently.

  Emma nodded reluctantly.

  “You were tracking down a thief?”

  Emma shrugged, in a way that had the edges of her kimono shifting open slightly. “Trying. It didn’t work.”

  Apparently oblivious to the tantalizing glimpse of décolletage she was giving him, Emma went on to explain what she had tried to do while Joe listened. “The thing is,” Emma concluded emotionally, “I’d feel terrible if I accused someone of doing something they didn’t do.”

  “But your gut tells you it was Posen,” Joe ascertained, not sure whether he felt relieved they had a lead—or simply angry that Emma hadn’t trusted him enough to confide in him until her back was to the wall!

  Emma released a long, uneven breath. She shoved her fingers through the tousled waves of her dark brown hair. “Yes,” she said finally, looking more temptress now than deliberate deceiver. She looked at him imploringly. “Mac said there’s an easy enough way to trace it. All they have to do is look at the country club records and see if there is some connection to everyone who’s had stuff stolen. If there is and everyone is a member or, more important, considering becoming a member and thus had some dealings with Benjamin Posen, then they can take that information and go to the guys who are already in jail and see if they won’t start spilling their guts about who really masterminded the breaking and entering.”